


Vanilla

by hotrodngold (Krystalicekitsu)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Fluff, Jealousy, M/M, Sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-08
Updated: 2012-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-29 04:30:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/315844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krystalicekitsu/pseuds/hotrodngold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A warm day in Cascade starts with ice cream, leads to jealousy and then back to ice cream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vanilla

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really liking playing with the dynamic between these two. Crossposted to 852 Prospect

Blair was one happy, happy anthropologist.

It was a nice day out- for once in the miserable water-drenched hellhole that was Cascade, WA- and the late spring weather had even deigned to grace them with temperatures that encouraged even warmth-challenged TAs to T-shirts and sandals. There were young, nubile babes out an about in bikini tops for admiring. His best friend and partner, one James Joseph Ellison, had decided to celebrate the closing of the McNeil homicide- and the proceeding confession of one Elena McNeil- by springing for the one food Blair Sandburg could never convince himself would be better without sugar, milk, and salt.

Ice cream.

So, understandably, it took a few minutes of sitting outside Mallard's Ice Cream Parlor, admiring the babes and giving suggestive licks of his ice cream, before he noticed the very dark cloud hanging solely above Jim's head.

He turned to make an off-hand comment to Jim- there were surprising connections to recent fashion trends and African tribal dress that he was nearly certain explained the insanity of bikini designs this season- when he noticed the detective's object glower.

At the babes.

Blair paused, mouth open, eyes darting between his partner and the exotic Latin beauty strolling along past them.

"Jim?"

No response.

"Jim, man, I don't think the chicks'll appreciate the axe-murderer look." The look swung to him. "Um. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Look. With the look. That one." Blair swiped his tongue across the bottom of his ice cream nervously.

"Or, you know any other. Look. Because they're all good looks. Very good looks and you don't have to worry- at all. About. Um."

Jim growled.

Blair took a sucking bite off the top scoop, swallowed the cold lump down and tried not to shift too much.

"Jim?" No, he didn't squeak. Blair Sandburgs don’t squeak.

"You gonna go get his number?" Jim's ice cream- lone, single scoop (and in a bowl!) that it was- sat mostly melted in its bowl.

"Who's-" Blair's head spun about, finally noticing the tall, elegant brunet with the dazzling smile and vivid green eyes attached the red-head's arm. "Oh. No."

"'No'." Jim's eyes practically burned.

"Yeah, man, 'no'. What's up with you?" and before the words even finished leaving his mouth, he knew. Or he thought he might have an inkling.

He let Jim glower threats of doom and destruction at his spoon for a few minutes, wrapped up with his own investigation, and occasional carving, of his ice cream.

"Jim," he finally began, "my favorite ice cream in the whole wide world is French vanilla."

Jim's eyes slowly rose from his bowl to study Blair's face. He stared back, face and eyes patient and as truthful as he could make them.

"You know why?" He waited for Jim to slowly shake his head.

"French vanilla is classy," he caught the miniscule vertical twitching of his sentinel's eyebrows and couldn't help the tiny wry twist of his lips. "Yeah, not something most people say about vanilla.

"But it's true. A scoop of vanilla and a swirl of whipped cream is the best thing. In the world.

"You can pair it with pie or cake, add sprinkles to it, slather it in chocolate syrup or caramel and even fudge. It goes great with gooey brownies and you can use it to make milkshakes or smoothies. Hell, you can't get ice cream sandwich cookies with sherbet or chocolate- just vanilla."

"You see, Jim," Blair continued, "as flashy and extravagant as Rocky Road or Mud Pie is, you can't really do too much with them; they're already complete when you order them. There's no variation, no finesse, no challenge."

"Challenge from ice cream, Sandburg?" Jim's dour look was morphing into a grin one part relieved, one part happy and about twenty more parts loving and hopelessly _gone_ as he slowly got the point.

"Yes, Jim. _Challenge_. With fancy, supped up ice creams like that, you don't have to think, your decision's already been made for you and all you have to do is say 'yes' or 'no' and let them do all the work." He shook his head, unable to fight off the slow grin and the matching joy he saw reflected back at him. "No challenge."

"You might get drawn in by the fancy look and promised taste of those dolled-up flavors, but it's not a real favorite, because what you're going for is the window dressing- the toppings or the surprise bits of marshmallow you already know're there. You're falling in love with the idea of the flavor, and you get distracted by the chunky bits, but in the end, what you've got is an ice cream that you'll only actually go for about 20% of the time- because the rest of it? The ice cream'll be too sweet to handle and will overload your taste buds. No, vanilla is the best thing ever. Vanilla's good no matter what you're having it with."

"I see," Jim said, picking up his spoon from his bowl of now-completely-melted Rocky Road and snagging a spoonful of Blair's vanilla.

Suddenly serious, and very much needing to be sure his occasionally dense sentinel got the message, Blair pinned Jim with a Look, "You're my vanilla, man."

The look of contented joy packed in Jim's smile was enough to drag him across the small table and plant a giggling kiss on vanilla lips.


End file.
